


Le Gentilhomme Aimant Sans Pitié

by WolfjawsWriter



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfjawsWriter/pseuds/WolfjawsWriter
Summary: Tufnell's Traveling Fairground sees itself at risk of lock out when a terrible ghost threatens the staff. Just when things start getting out of control does Mr Tufnell  seeks the help of an agency that can take care of the ghost, before anyone else come out hurt.But the ghost has a specific type of prey and a special way to capture them. Lockwood must find a way to keep his stubborn associates safe, but how can you save someone that does not listen to you, even when you're their boss?!----------------Basically what happened with La Belle Sans Mercy but in reverse.This fic is made with the sole purpose of dealing and possibly kill Writer's Block, so it may be a little crappy and trashy. READ UNDER YOUR OWN CONSCIENCE





	1. What the Hell is that Chain for?!

#  **“What the Hell is that Chain for?!”  
** **Lockwood x Lucy**

 

 

## Lockwood and Co. Series

 

 **Summary:** What happened with La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but reverse.

 

**————Lockwood————**

 

Our clients certainly made an image of themselves. There were two of them; an older man and a girl possibly our age. The man was short and roundish, he wore a yellow jacket with leather patches on the elbows, a grey waistcoat which was pushed outwards by his belly over a white v-neck shirt that allowed some of his chest hair to show and some deep red pants that basically screamed for attention. Quite a looker really.

The girl beside him was skinny and scrawny like a malnourished kitty. She had a pair of faded jeans and a long pink shirt that fitted her much too big and only managed accentuate how thin she was. Her mouth was a delicate, sad line, her eyes sunken and seemingly far into the unknown and her face framed with a long mane of hair that somehow shadowed her eyes.

 

“This is Mr Lewis Tufnell” Holly said as they walked in “Mr Tufnell and…”

 

“And Charity Budd” Mr Tufnell walked forward and shook out hands. The lass moved behind in a trance-like state, her hands heavily perched together in front of her. In fact, too heavily-

I looked at Lucy to make sure she noticed them too, and of course she did. George walked in with the tea ready and stopped, open-mouthed when he saw it too, and Holly was feverishly gesticulating at us.

The girl was being held by a chain. It didn’t matter how polished and shiny it looked, it was a _chain_.

 

Mr Tufnell did not wait for an invitation and sat down on the sofa, pulling the girl down after himself. She seemed to sink into the couch, her shoulders slouching and the chains clicking softly as she settled herself.

I cleared my throat.

 

“Er, good morning” I began a little uncertain “I’m Anthony Lockwood. Now, Mr Tufnell-”

 

“Call me Lew!” He exclaimed flamboyantly “Plain Lew Tufnell! That’s how I like it. No airs and graces about me, I hope. Proprietor of Tufnell’s Theatre, not to mention Tufnell’s Marvels and Tufnell’s Traveling Fairground of Astonishment and Delight. More to the point, I’m also a man at his wits’ end, for my establishment is cursed by an evil spirit that threatens me with ruin” He made a small pause to sigh and notice Holly’s seed cake on the table “Ooh. Is that little morsel for me? Smashing!”

 

“Well, we were kind of hoping to share it out between us” George said, but I raised my hand.

 

“Before we deal with cake or curse, there’s one thing we need to discuss…” I hoped Mr Tufnell would take a hint, but he was obliviously clueless “Well, we can’t help noticing the chain…” The man seemed startled for a second there, but then smiled.

 

“Oh, _that’s_ just for dear Charity’s safety. Don’t worry about it” I frowned.

 

“I don’t. But-”

 

“She won’t hurt _you_ or your associates, no, not poor Charity here” He patted her long hair “She’s just not so particular about herself, if you take my meaning. See that cake knife there? If I weren’t vigilant, she’d be on it in a trice. Bury it in her own heart, she would, and spoil your lovely carpet”

 

I looked between the carpet and the knife, noticing how the others did too, then looked at the girl, pale and distant.

 

“She’d stab herself?” Lucy asked carefully.

 

“Assuredly”

 

“Surely, Mr Tufnell” Holly, who was perched in George’s chair, chimed it “If she’s, well, ill, she should be in a hospital. She needs doctors-”

 

“No doctor can help her now, miss” Lew Tufnell shook his head sadly “They’d drug her and truss her around while her life drains out of her regardless of what they try. In a day or two she’d just be another corpse who’s spirit’s gone. Waste of time, _doctors_. No, miss, we need you. That’s why we are here”

 

“I don’t understand” I said after a little silence in which I looked around at the others “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what we can do to help her. Now, if there’s a spirit in your establishment-”

 

“It was the ghost that did this to poor Charity” Mr Tufnell said. We gazed at the lass again; at her stillness, her passivity, her unseeing eyes.

 

“Ghost-touched, you mean?” George asked.

 

“No, not touched _physically_ ” Mr Tufnell answered, “thought, it was a close call, her heart is snared; his sucking her spirit out of her, making her weak. I don’t think she’ll live farther than two more nights, maybe less, then he’ll come to finish what he started” He looked at the girl sadly “If you destroy him, maybe it’ll break the link. Maybe she’ll come back. I dunno”

 

I crossed my legs in a businesslike manner. I still disliked the chain, but if it was the only thing preventing her from ending her life in a hurry, then something better be done, and quickly “You’d better tell us about this ghost, then” Lucy got to her feet.

 

“I think first we should all have some tea”

 

“And _I_ think” George moved too “I should bury this cake knife where it belongs”

 

“That’ll be splendid” Mr Tufnell exclaimed “I love cake” Lucy started fumbling with the teapot and the cups in the tray.

 

“Some tea for miss Charity too?” Lucy offered her a cup, but the lass remained impassive.

 

“Oh no” Mr Tufnell took the cup from Lucy’s hands “She’s not eating anymore, not since it happened anyway” As she took care of the rest of the cups, I noticed how Lucy’s nice skirt went up a few centimeters _(particularly on her behind)_ as she lowered herself a little. I kept my eyes away from the compelling image, as I had taught myself to do for the last years, but unmistakeable noticed how Mr Tufnell did not.

 

“Well” He remarked a little to himself, but loud enough for all of us to listen “You’re a bright little shower, and no mistake. Scrubbed and shiny and pleasing to the eye. I could find jobs for you on one or two of my shows, if this agency lark doesn’t work out” He flashed her a washy smile, which I noticed only made her frown a little scaredy “Couple of _little_ dresses, a few sequins, twinkly tassels in appropriate places…you’d fit right in”

 

“That’s nice to know” I said through gritted teeth, my insides furiously boiling with something I couldn’t quite name “George here will bare it in mind. Now, how can we help you in our present capacity as professional psychical investigation agents?”

 

“Tell us about this evil spirit” Holly spoke crisply. She also hadn’t liked his comment; none of us had. She turned a page to her notepad and held her biro ready “What is it, how it appears, and how its affecting this poor girl”

 

“Its not just Charity who’s been affected, I’m afraid; there’s been a death too. The theatre and fairground are no longer a safe place for young lassies, no thanks to _him_ ” He took a great bite of the cake “I’ll be brief. I’m a busy man; I can’t sit around all day munching cake, even if you can. Well, the background’s quickly told. You’ll have heard of Tufnell’s Traveling Fairground, no doubt. Been in the family a hundred years. My old dad now, Frank Tufnell, he used to take it up and down the country, but what with the Problem, travel’s no longer safe. So, the last twenty years we’ve taken roots in Stratford, east London. There’s an old theatre in the site- Palace Theatre, its called; been there a couple of hundred yeas itself, they say- and we use it for magic shows and circus entertainments, as well as housing Tufnell’s Marvels. The fair’s set up permanently around it. A tenner gets you entry for the whole shebang, and for that, my friends, you have a feast of wonderment that never ceases or runs dry. Plus a free hot dog for kids on Sundays. Now _that’s_ what I call value”

 

Listening to the man’s blubbering was like listening to the radio’s continuous advertisements about this and that and the other. Boring. I listened to him nonetheless, looking out the window for something more interesting to look at “Indeed. You mentioned something about a ghost”

 

“I did. It walks the theatre’s corridors at night in the guise of a cloaked man, athletic and suave, or so I’m told, yet with an evil heart” He shuddered greatly “His already taken one of my lasses, and Charity here won’t linger long. Any young lady he meets never lives to tell his tale. They call him…” He looked at the girl beside him and leaned forward, his voice descending into a whisper “They call him… _Le Gentilhomme Aimant Sans Pitié_ ”


	2. Maybe we could, you know, finish this interview?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has been started must be finished

#  **“Maybe we could, you know, finish this interview?”  
****Lockwood x Lucy**

 

 

## Lockwood and Co. Series

 

 

 **Summary:** What happened with La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but reverse.

 

 **————Lockwood————  
**            
              **_“They call him…_ _Le Gentilhomme Aimant Sans Pitié”_  
**

 

When the whisper died in the air, the girl beside Mr Tufnell, chained and dead-silent, uttered a low, long moan. 

It was unnerving to say the least; a long sound that escaped her throat like a distant cry for help that barely made it out of a tight grip around her neck. And once again, she was silent.

 

“ _Le Gentilhomme Aimant Sans Pitié_ …” George whispered “The Loving Gentleman Without Mercy…they call him that?”

 

“They do”

 

“On account of its deadly masculine allure?”

 

“No, that was his name. You see, we know who the apparition is: La Gentilhomme Aimant Sans Pitié. He was an actor, you might say, at the turn of last century. Great star in his days, he was, and a wicked and handsome man, let me tell you. Now it seems his walking again. Here, take a look” He produced a folded piece of paper from somewhere inside his jacket and passed it over the table “And for God’s sake, don’t let Charity here see that!”

 

I took the paper and opened it, looking at it and letting the others look at its contents. It was a theatrical flyer, printed in vibrant gold, red and black. The illustration was that of a herculean man surrounded by golden smoke while in a ‘manly’ pose. His outfit was hard to describe, mainly because it was almost nonexistent: his muscular chest was exposed, his strong arms highlighted by the smoke around him, his nether regions covered by cloth being moved by the wind, which threatened to reveal that that should remain hidden. Beside him, in grand bold letters, read:

 

**_“Le Gentilhomme Aimant Sans Pitié”_ **

**Master of Illusion**

**In**

**The Sultan’s Revenge**

 

With the address of the Palace Theatre at the bottom, with a date that went almost a hundred years back.

 

“Le Gentilhomme Aimant. Legendary Adonis, as you can see”

 

“Yes” Holly said and I noticed how she and Lucy were a little flushed.

 

“Looks a like a stretch to me, wouldn’t you say, George?” I grunted.

 

“Definitely”

 

“He was a cruel man in life, is what is said. His looks gave him power over all who lay eyes upon him, and that’s the power he has now”

 

“How can you be certain it is his ghost that’s haunting your theatre, Mr Tufnell?” I asked.

 

“Because Le Gentilhomme Aimant met his terrible end onstage in this very theatre. He was an escapologist, you see. People came from all over London to see his performances of incredible illusions in which he would narrowly escape death. His most famous routine was the one you’ve just read: The Sultan’s Revenge. He was placed in an upright casket, a coffin, which hung from the ceiling on chains. Other men would then impale him with swords, with him screaming from inside. It was all, of course, fake; he’d drop through a trapdoor in the base of the coffin and escape under the stage. Afterwards, he would pop back up when the swords were withdrawn. An easy but tricky to the eye deceit. Until one night it went terribly wrong…” He spoke with passion and dramatic effects, like pauses, hand gestures and voice alteration. A man who knew how to captivate his audience “Some say it was sabotage” He whispered “A vengeful act of his wronged lovers. Others claim that the boy in charge of the lever that opened the trapdoor missed his cue. Either way, Le Gentilhomme Aimant did not drop through the floor when the swords were driven in. His shrieks on the stage were real that night”

 

“A nasty way to go” Lucy said “Nasty for the audience too”

 

“Truly so” Mr Tufnell agreed “For starters, no one in the theatre understood what had happened: they thought the torrent of blood was an added part of the act. Something Le Gentilhomme had decided to use as a surprise, but it just went on and on…I hope I’m not distressing you”

 

“Only a little” I say. It is always fascinating to hear how this ghosts ended their lives, but it can certainly put anyone off their tea “Right, fine. That’s the story of how he died. Tell us about the ghost”

 

“Of course; we do an afternoon performance, in the theatre. No evening event, naturally- everyone’s out before the sun goes down. Its an old-school circus variety of shows: trapeze artists, jugglers, clowns and acrobats on stage. Most are adults, but I’ve got some kids who clean up after the show. A couple of them came to me reporting that they’d seen a man walking in the back of the theatre while they swept the stage. Thought it was just late afternoon. They thought he was a punter who’d strayed in one way or another, but when they looked for him, he was gone. A few days later one of the kids was passing the dressing rooms just before lock up. Said she saw a shadow in black clothes out of the corner of her eye, but when she stepped back, it was gone”

 

“Quite ominous indeed” I muttered “What did you do, Mr Tufnell?”

 

“Nothing. We weren’t in the building after dark, it was all during daylight. I thought we’d be safe enough, until…well, until what happened to Charity and poor Sandra Morrison” He sighed heavily in a mournful manner.

 

“What happened to Charity?”

 

“It was late afternoon, three days ago” He started narrating again “The ghostlamps were just coming on outside. Samuel Parkins, our stage manager, had forgotten his coat; he went back inside to get it, and spotted Charity walking down a corridor, all smiling and blank-eyed, like our hypnotist’s victims during a show. He saw something with a manly figure beckoning her to him from the end of the hall. Said it was dark around himself, thought the lights were still on. She was walking directly towards him” He looked around at us “Samuel didn’t wasted anytime; he practically rugby-tackled Charity, brought her crashing to the floor. The figure disappeared as he did, and poor little Charity here was alive, but in the same condition you see here”

 

“The stage manager was very brave” Lucy commented.

 

“Yes” Mr Tufnell regarded her “Samuel’s a strapping lad, like yourself, I know. Not willowy and pliant like this young lady here” He smiled at Holly and she cringed.

 

“So” I interfered “It was a close call for miss Charity. And now we get to poor Sandra Morrison”

 

The impresario’s shoulders dropped guiltily.

“Sandra was one of the dancers, and of the best that is. Had a real talent for moving and shaking those tights, I tell you. Late yesterday afternoon she was still on stage, recovering her equipment after a little practice with the other dancers. One of our boys, name of Troy, was down the auditorium, sweeping the floor. Said he suddenly felt all cold. He looked up to see Sandra was no longer alone in the stage. A man that stood facing him, yet he couldn’t really see him, even with all the lights on. As he watched, the man started to glide into the dark of the wings. He didn’t walk or turn, just sort of flowed backwards, and Sandra walked after him. Not running, but not hesitating either. She disappeared between the curtains”

 

“Did Troy tried to call her?” Holly asked.

 

“He said he felt he couldn’t talk, for some reason he just couldn’t. As soon as Sandra was gone, he found he could move again. He ran to the steps of the stage and looked between the curtains. The next bit ain’t pretty, I must say”

 

“Oh, do get on with it” Holly exclaimed impatiently “Do you know how many ghosts we’ve dealt with? Please”

 

Mr Tufnell nodded and continued without complain.

“Troy went into the wings, and there he saw the man and Sandra again. Said they were like embracing each other, or at least his broad arms were around her, and his face at her neck. He said the man seeming to envelope her completely. Sure, Sandra was a thin girl, but Troy assured it was like she became a rag doll, completely limp, in his arms. Then, he seemingly went right through her and she collapsed to the floor, shapeless and very dead, and when Troy turned her over she had the most unnerving smile on her cold face”

 

“What about the ghost?” I tapped my fingers on my knee.

 

“Vanished before poor Sandra hit the floor”

 

“Mr Tufnell, you’ve been slow in coming to us” I lamented “Too slow. When poor miss Charity had her narrow escape-”

 

“I know” He said guiltily “I know, its just…if this got out, who would come to see us? The show would fold”

 

“Better that than any further deaths” Holly scowled.

 

“What sort of girl _is_ Charity?” George asked after a silence “When she is herself, I mean”

 

“Quiet. Shy, thought not exactly what you’d call _healthy_. She has a lung condition that prevents her from doing much heavy work. Most people wouldn’t give her house room or a job. Me, well, I’m generous. I keep her busy”

 

“Was Sandra sickly too?”

 

“Oh, not in the slightest. Athletic, full of life. She was a _coryphee_ ” A what? I nodded.

 

“She was? How great. Good for her”

 

“You don’t know what that means, do you, Mr Lockwood?” At least he took the hint!

 

“Not a clue”

 

“Means she was a _prima ballerina;_ a lead dancer. She was the best of the best; could make kicks and turns better than any other lass, organize choreographies in one day. The other girls listened to her, she was brilliant at what she did! Could lubricate a crowd with just parading herself around the folks a little, we’d have full house! That’s what she was good at- or at least, she was, before she fell in love with the Russian boy of the magician’s assistant”

 

“Why was that a problem?”

 

“He didn’t return her feelings, though I can’t see why; the girl was to die for. I tried to persuade him to humor her a little, best interests for the company at heart, but he refused. She was lovesick. Spent weeks moping around and weeping in her caravan, wouldn’t even eat or sleep. Her skills dropped too of course; attended less rehearsals. I would’ve have had to fire her had she not died”

 

“Well, she saved you the trouble” I said tapping my fingers again “This Russian magician’s assistant, what’s his name?”

 

“Chase Blears”

 

“He doesn’t _sound_ very Russian”

 

“White Russian of his paternal grandfather’s side. That’s what he says. As long as he can make doves appear and disappear from the depths of his jacket, I don’t really have a problem with where he is from” He took the last slice of cake, which he’d been eating all along the meeting “So, will you help me? This ghost’s killing dear Charity here, not to mention giving me ulcers and scaring my punters away”

 

I looked at the ceiling as I thought about everything he’d been saying.

“Mr Tufnell, how long has this problem been going?”

 

“The ghost or the ulcers?”

 

“The ghost”

 

“Two, maybe three weeks”

 

“I see. And who has actually seen him besides Charity Budd, Sandra Morrison and the two lads you mentioned?”

 

“Some of the ushers, Valentino the costume designer and an ice-cream boy, if I’m not wrong”

 

“And they all survived?”

 

“They live with the horrors fresh in their memories to this day. And Valentino’s hair turned white”

 

“In other words, Le Gentilhomme’s victims have only ever been female?” George asked.

 

“Not one of them could resist his charms. This young ladies here would better beware, Mr Lockwood”

 

“Oh, Lucy and I can take care of ourselves alright” Holly bristled once more.

 

“Well Mr Tufnell” I smiled amiably “We’ll look into this for you. Give us twenty-four hours to research the case, if you believe Charity here will make it that long”

 

We looked at the chained girl, motionless and un-seeing.

“I hope so, Mr Lockwood…but, for pity’s sake, don’t delay more”


	3. Stubborn Always Wins the Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could one possibly say no?

#  **“Stubborn always wins the fights”**

#  **Lockwood x Lucy**

 

 

## Lockwood and Co. Series

**  
Summary:** What happened with La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but reverse.  
  


**Sequel:** Maybe we could, you know, finish this interview?

**————Lockwood————**

I found myself in an excellent mood the next morning. Last night had been stressing, going over to the cemetery with Lucy and talking about my family...it wasn't something I had thought over, but I felt somehow better now.

Today we were going to Tufnell's Theatre at five to take a look around the place, talk with the people who've seen the ghost and destroy it. First though, I had to go to Mullet's to pick up my new rapier and some other supplies, iron fillings for example. There is nothing like the smell of fresh iron and silver before a case.

But before all that, we gathered to listen to George's findings, like we did before every case, of course.

"Little comment on the Marissa subject before we start" George said "I went to Hardimann Library yesterday to follow a lead I got when researching the beginning of the Problem, I'll let you know more when I find something juicy"

"I thought Hardimann Library was off limits?" Holly asked. Oh yeah, thanks to DEPRAC's new regulations, some libraries were restricted sections. They said they wanted to prevent ghost-cults from reaching invaluable information but we knew it was to discourage eager researchers like George.

"Depends on how you look at it" George said "Strictly speaking no one who doesn't have a permit shouldn't go there, but the curator's a friend of mine. However, I was mostly in the Archives looking at anything I could find about the Palace Theatre, and, let me tell you, how successful I was there..." He took out his enormous notebook and opened it, revealing it to be full of incomprehensible writings and post-its of all colors. He took out a folded paper, showing us a theatrical flyer like the one Mr Tufnell showed us yesterday, with the same man on the front making another herculean pose with the words 'The Hangman's Daughter' beside him.

"So you found more about our handsome ghost?"

"His real name would be a good start" Lucy commented.

"Its written right here" I said, taking a closer look to the flyer "It says 'Featuring our most sinister star, Victor Evanoff'. Hm. Seems he was Russian"

"Or Polish" George said "But Victor Evanoff was only his stage name. His real name was Desmond Fowkes. He was first heard of at the end an end-of-the-pier show in Eastbourne a hundred years ago. Five years later he was packing with audiences at the Palace Theatre in Stratford. Tufnell was right; he was a big star during his days, and all thanks to his acts that consisted of pretty much the same things: romance, glamour and the threat of a violent death. Which pretty much summed his off-stage life too"

"Mr Tufnell said he was a wicked man" Holly spoke up "Said he wrapped women around his little finger, or at least that was the implication"

"Which was very much accurate" George continued "The best papers of back then are full of stories about him and the many rich married and single women that fell in love with him, all the husbands he'd wronged- some men even attacked him on the street. He never stayed long with his lovers, though, always discarded them like food wrappers. It was rumored that more than one woman committed suicide due to one-way love for him, leaving their kids orphaned, in the care of their husbands or the help, even in the streets. And when he'd hear about this things he'd only laugh and said it was 'life imitating art', since all his performances were basically like that"

"A charming man" Lucy said.

"And now a charming ghost" George said "Its not surprising he showed up in Palace Theatre, since he performed there for many years. His shows consisted of illusions, all of which were set as little dramas and playlets. All ended with a staged death that was acted out with the outmost precision. The one in which he died, The Sultan's Revenge, was the story of a handsome servant in the sultan's palace who was supposed to be his 'most loyal servant', but fell in love with the sultan's wife and did all kind of naughty things with her. When the sultan finds out he feels so betrayed he has him be sealed in a coffin and run through by fifty swords" He pushed his glasses up his eyes "I guess that's entertainment for you"

Holly snorted disgustedly.

"What a foul story. Who'd want to see that?"

"Lots of people. It was a sensation in the stage. Another of his most famous stories was The Captive Pirate. They'd put a tank in the stage and fill it with water. Le Gentilhomme would go in splashing in a pirate costume; he played the role of a daring pirate that fell in love with a fair maiden, who was married to the captain of the King's Royal Guard, but was caught by the guards and condemned for doing terrible things for trying to corrupt the Captain's wife. In the end he was tied to lots of weights and-"

"Pardoned, I hope" Holly bristled.

"I'll go with the 'thrown him in the tank to drown' option" Lucy said.

"Point go to Lucy here" George agreed "Yes, very famous illusion. He'd thrash around the tank for a few minutes and go limp, then they'd throw the curtain that concealed him from view, and then- presto!- the pirate reappears off-stage alive and saluting to the public"

"People came to see this?" Holly rested her head on her hands. Just like her, I wasn't sure it was a show people would want to witness, but, apparently, we were both wrong.

"It was a very good show business. Everyone came to see them-the women adored him, the men like his apparent deaths. There was another of his celebrated acts, The Hangman's Daughter, about-"

"Let me guess" Lucy held up her hand "A man that fell in love with this girl, who was the daughter of the Hangman, and they did all kinds of naughty things until her father discovers them and hangs him"

"Hey, got it in one. You are good"

"Did any of the male protagonists in this stories survived?!" Holly asked.

"Not so's you'd know. They were mostly drowned, stabbed, poisoned, thrown from a height. The point was- he seemed to die- the Le Gentilhomme would spring back up to stage, alive and well and taking the wild applause from the crowd" He blinked doubtfully "So I suppose in a sense they all lived in the end"

"Not on my book, they didn't. What an appalling creature"

"And now" I finally opened my mouth after listening to the story "He's come back as a malignant ghost with vampiric tendencies"

"We'll have to take lots of care tonight" Lucy said.

"Yeah, about that" I said "I've been thinking about that, and I reckon you and Holly should let George and me take care of this one" Both Lucy and Holly looked at me like I had just said a bad joke and were waiting for me to say 'just kidding'.

"Is he benching us, Holly?" Lucy said.

"I think his trying" Holly answered her. Lucy crackled a sarcastic laugh, then felt silent and looked me death in the eyes.

"No, we're going too, its too dangerous if you guys go alone" 

"I agree with Lockwood" George said "It is clear Le Gentilhomme's victims are only ladies. We'd be less vulnerable without you" That did not come out well.

"I don't think that's true" Lucy said tensely. 

"Besides, the reason why he attack Charity and Sandra is because they were showing clear psychic weakness" Holly remarked.

"Exactly" Lucy agreed "Charity Budd was a sickly girl, a clear and easy target for any ghost. As for Sandra, Mr Tufnell said it; she was lovesick, technically starving herself because of romantic misery. They both wanted release, that's why they followed the ghost. Neither of them was physically or mentally strong enough to resist him"

"Even so" George insisted "You're both girls"

"And now, just because we are girls, we are the weak links of the team?" 

"We weren't saying that" 

"Well, Holly and I are going. Period. End of story"

And with that we broke the meeting.


	4. He was Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was there, and you better believe it.

#  **“He was here”**

#  **Lockwood x Lucy**

 

 

## Lockwood and Co. Series

**  
Summary:**  What happened with La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but reverse.  
  


**Sequel:** Stubborn always wins the fights

**————Lockwood————  
**  
Mr Tufnell’s business seemed to be going alright to me. I mean, the place is literally packing with costumers, I don’t think he can complain much about that, honestly. The theatre was a massive building standing in the middle of a wasteland. It probably used to be impressive, with roman-like columns and greek-style statues and depictions in it, but the columns were now cracked and the statues were barely understandable. Besides, the fair all around it took most of its glamour away.

 

I was standing inside the outside iron fence with Kipps at my side when Lucy, Holly and George appeared.

 

“Isn’t it fabulous?” Kipps said distastefully as he signaled all around us “I’ve seen interment camps that look jollier than this place”

 

“Didn’t know you were with us in this one, Quill” Lucy said.

 

“Nor did I. Bumped into Lockwood at Mullet’s. He said you might need help, and I didn’t have anything particular to do, so…”

 

“Sure” She smiled.

 

“Isn’t it good that Quill was free tonight?” I exclaimed happily “Its the more the merrier on this one. Lets get over to the theatre, we’ll ask someone to show us around” 

 

We walked past all the stripped tents and into the building. There were all kinds of banners there advertising all the different shows and pleasures they have to offer, from kids shows to adult shows. We specially avoided those for obvious reasons. There was a pair of double doors hanging open with a sour-faced boy in a usher’s uniform just in the process of shutting them with iron bolts.

 

“The show’s over for the day. I can take you with someone who’ll give you tickets for the ones tomorrow”

 

“We are not here to see the show, is Lew Tufnell available?” I gave him my best smile, which normally had the effect of boiling water on ice, but the boy remained the way he was.

 

“He’s upstage” He hesitated, his little hands playing with the bolts “But its not a good time. You shouldn’t go in”

 

“I’m sure he’s very busy, but he is expecting us”

 

“I wasn’t talking about Mr Tufnell. It is late already, _he’ll_ be walking the corridor’s by now”

 

“You mean Le Gentilhomme Aimant? Have _you_ seen him?” I asked the boy. He shivered at the mention of his name, but before he could say anything, a familiar voice called us from inside.

 

“Come in, come in!” Mr Tufnell walked towards us from inside the room “I’m just helping the stagehands. We’re short-staffed now, what with Sandra and Charity. Look alive there, Troy! Don’t block the door, boy, let them by! Let them by!”

 

The boy moved aside and we filed in. He was pale-skinned and had reddish hair like Kipps’, and was perhaps a year older than me. Mr Tufnell bowed and shook my hand enthusiastically.

 

“Honored to have you here, Mr Lockwood! Come, I’ll show you the stage. We are reading it for tomorrow”

 

“How’s poor Charity Budd?” Holly asked as we walked.

 

“Alive” Mr Tufnell said “But not for long, I fear. She’s started screaming nonstop this afternoon and disrupted Coco the Clown’s toddler party. I’m afraid to say that meant refunds” He sighed deeply “In fact, I will need to go see Charity soon. I’m assuming you won’t mind if I don’t stay inside after dark, I’d only get in the way, I’m afraid”

 

We entered the auditorium of the Palace Theatre, which was a world away from all that was outside the door. The ceiling was full of carving of gold which twinkled with the light. The floor was covered with red carpet and the seats were coated with purple silk. The boxes on the sides of the walls were also decorated with golden carvings of beautiful women and men, even magical creatures. One look behind me and I knew this was Lucy’s first time inside a theatre. Maybe I should take her out on a play sometime. 

Definitely Sometime.

 

Tufnell led us down the aisle and towards the enormous stage where various kids were moving boxes and cleaning. The acoustics of the room were impressive too, I could hear the kids’ breathing all the way down here. 

 

“This is it, Mr Lockwood” Tufnell said once we stood on the stage “This is where Le Gentilhomme met his end” He looked back the kids who had now stopped working and were now watching him “You lot can go now. Straight outside and no delaying, you all know why” They didn’t need to be told twice. They trooped away and out of the room.

 

I gazed around the room, looking for any death-glows or ghosts that could be here already, but the room was empty of anything unnatural.

 

“What is that crash mat for?” I asked pointing to the many things that lay behind us “and all these boxes? Part of the show?” Tufnell nodded proudly.

 

“We start with trapeze act. The acrobats do their thing, then swoop down on the mat. The boxes are for the magic show, however, all the props are in them, you see; caged doves, metal hoops, etc. that sort of things. Lots of cubbyholes. Our stage manager designed them. He is a clever man, very good at his job. But you’ll be wanting to see where Sandra died, I imagine. Left stage, in the wings”

 

“Thank you, we’ll start there” I moved to where Mr Tufnell instructed us, George, Quill and Holly coming too. I noticed how Lucy stayed behind, stood at the center of the stage and looked around the empty space before her. I knew she was using her Talents, I could see it her face, and for once I thought it’d be better if she didn’t.

 

After hearing what Le Gentilhomme Aimant had done to those poor girls, Charity and Sandra, I had been very reluctant to let Lucy and Holly come, and I did told them, however, I didn’t told them exactly how reluctant I was. I knew they’d be having none of it. 

They are both very strong girls, but seeing as how only the male witnesses have come out alive and sane from the encounters with him, I would feel very reassured if Lucy and Holly would have just agreed to stay home.

 

Mr Tufnell started explaining how they had taken the necessary precautions to prevent Sandra Morrison’s ghost from returning, the lavender water washing on the floor, the iron fillings that were used, and then proceeded to retell the story, since Kipps wasn’t exactly briefed on all that had happened here, but much more juicily detailed because, it seems, when you have an audience, you must entertain it.

 

“…then Troy pushed the curtains aside” He said dramatically “and saw Sandra here, locked in the ghost’s embrace! He ran forward…”

 

I could see Kipps wasn’t precisely enjoying the story, but it was noticeable all his years of experience in listening to exaggerated depictions and over-dramatic retellings of deaths that he must have heard when working in Fittes.

 

“…but alas, too late. She lay there like a rag doll! Le Gentilhomme Aimant had drained Sandra of her life!”

 

“He’s here!” A shout broke my thoughts and whipped me around “Lockwood! He’s here!”

 

I turned to back to the stage to see Lucy leaping off of it and land on the backseats of the first row. The others swing to her general direction too, but she was already jumping from seat to seat and to the back of the auditorium.

 

“Lucy, wait!” She gave a savage war-cry and jumped from the last row and into the shadows. 

 

“Are you mad?!” Someone yelled from the back of the room. A clank and a heavy thud was heard and I was off to where Lucy had gone, thinking I may not be too late-

But she wasn’t hurt. 

 

“Lucy-” 

 

“He was right here” She said exasperated. I helped her to her feet and noticed there was indeed some new comers, but not our ghost, just a pair of lads. Troy, the one from before, standing behind a taller, slimmer boy “I saw the casket. Did none of you see the blood?”

 

“All we saw was you playing hopscotch on the seats” Kipps said as he handed her her dropped rapier.

 

“But Le Gentilhomme” She glared around and stopped at the boys “Were any of you sitting at the back just now?” Troy shook his head confusedly.

 

“No, I just came in” Said the taller boy. He regarded Lucy coolly.

 

“And you saw nothing weird here in the aisle?” 

 

“Just you” Lucy glared around some more and stopped when her eyes fell on me.

 

“He was here” She insisted “I acted on it. That’s what I do”

 

“Nobody is doubting you, Lucy” I reassured her. She calmed down a little and I took the opportunity to look back at the boys “You are Troy, aren’t you? Nice to see you again, and you are…?”

 

“This fine lad,” Mr Tufnell said as he reached us “That your dear friend almost decapitated, is Samuel Parkins, our stage manager. He is the one who saved Charity the other day” 

 

“Pleased to meet you” Lucy said as both she and Samuel scowled at each other.

 

“Charmed” He sneered before looking back at Mr Tufnell “That reminds me, sir, Charity has started howling again and we cannot calm her. She’s upsetting everyone. Perhaps you should come, try to soothe her”

 

“God, give me strength” The man closed his eyes aggravated “If I live past tonight it’ll only be by a miracle. Yes, yes, I’ll be out shortly. Troy, you stupid boy, what are you doing still in here? Don’t you have chores to take care of outside?” The younger boy flinched at his words and recoiled into Samuel’s back.

 

“Charity’s screams are very frightening, sir, Samuel said it was okey if I came with him-”

 

“Against my direct orders! Disobey me one more time, boy, and you’ll be feeling the back of-”

 

“Actually” I intervened, seeing how things were getting too heated “I am glad you are both here. I was hoping to ask you a few questions, since you’ve both seen the ghost. You’re both witnesses and any information may come in helpful, no matter how small”

 

Both lads remained silent, Samuel scowling and Troy looking at the floor like it was far more interesting. 

 

“Troy?” I urged him as gently as I could muster without leaving my professionalism “You were the one who saw it most clearly, I believe. On the stage- ad in the wings. You saw it with poor Sandra Morrison” 

 

“…yes”

 

“The Specter was very handsome, I understand?”

 

“Not to me” He looked away into Samuel’s shirt “But I guess Sandra must have found him so. He was on the stage, wrapped in golden light”

 

“Then perhaps the stage is the source” Holly said “That’s where he died” But Samuel Parkins shook his head.

 

“No, it can’t be. It is not the same stage; the wood boards of which that stage was made were burned after he died, just like the casket. You can find it in the theatre’s history books in the office” 

 

“Ah, clever man, our Samuel is” Mr Tufnell praised him “And committed to the company, despite our misfortunes. Though I say it as I shouldn’t, he was particularly  a little fond of Sandra, and I am much too obliged to him of carrying on in such tragic circumstances. Ain’t I, Samuel? But, right now we really ought to go”

 

“All right, if there’s nothing more to be added-”

 

“You shouldn’t waste your time on the stage” Samuel said as he turned to leave “I saw him on the dressing rooms, other boys saw it down on the basement and on the balconies” He waved his arm around the room “One can never know where he might appear next. Be careful”


	5. Private Renditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He enjoys a good crowd. He always finds a good crowd.

#  **“Private Renditions”**

#  **Lockwood x Lucy**

 

 

## Lockwood and Co. Series

**  
Summary:**  What happened with La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but reverse.  
  


**Sequel:** He was here

**————Lockwood————**    
  
“Lockwood, we’ll be fine!  
  


No sooner had we been left alone in the immense area of the auditorium, we had another discussion regarding Lucy’s and Holly’s contribution on this case. When I first explained this to Kipps while we were on Mullet’s he had been convinced that my concerns were exaggerated, after all, Lucy and Holly could put the fear of God into any men’s heart and soul. But now, seeing how as fast as we’ve been let in the ghost was already trying tricks on them, he understood what I had been worried about, and was decidedly on my side of the discussion. And of course, so was George.

 

“Lucy, its not even ten o’clock and the damn thing is already trying tricks on you, he is too powerful! Just go back home, we’ll take care of this one”

 

“No guys” Holly had, as well, become incredibly stubborn, more than I ever thought she could be “Lucy and I know how to take care of ourselves, we do not need to hide from this ghost”

 

“We are not telling you to hide, just to stay out of this one particular job”

 

“And we are telling you we are not doing that” Holly countered.

 

“Besides” Lucy added “if the ghost was a woman who only attacked guys, would you stay out of it?” I opened my mouth to reply back, but thought better about what she said; if it were me, George and Kipps the ones who would be the most endangered by this job, would we let Lucy and Holly take it on their own?

 

“…no” We said at unison.

 

“Well, that’s exactly what we’re doing” Damn women and their feminine craftiness! 

We ended the discussion there, since we knew we weren’t going to be able to convince them otherwise.

 

We started exploring the vastness of the concert hall and its many corridors, stairways and passages, which we managed to find despite how well hidden they were, probably to be used only by staff. We are agents, nothing escapes our eyes.

The hall itself had three levels; the stalls on the ground floor, the first-floor balcony with more stalls, and the upper one in the farthest point of the room with fewer stalls. Plus the private balconies on the sides of the stage.

 

We took many readings on every level, on every balcony and on every corner to make sure we wouldn’t miss anything, and found traces of supernatural activity; minimal chills, subtle miasmas, and a faint sense of unease that entered and left our hearts at random.

 

To one of the sides of the theatre, after the foyer, was Tufnell’s Marvels, which was a long and large room filled with mechanical devices that moved when fed with money. We kept a respectable distance away from the engines while we took readings there, since we have found haunted automata before and those encounters don’t usually end nicely. However, despite the many creepy mechanical clowns there were in the room, everything stayed psychically quiet.

 

Lastly, we checked the backstage and placed an iron chain beside the place where Le Gentilhomme died all those years ago, since that spot was colder than the rest of the place. But further than that we didn’t find anymore cold spots, just old costumes and broken scenery.

 

At last, it was time for the haunting to begin.

 

We decided to spread around the spacious auditorium, always keeping ourselves in sight, but not bothering the others while we worked. We would wait for the visitor to try and get one of us by being just vulnerable enough for it to be tempting, but when it did we would all attack it with all our mighty flares and seal it. It was a risky strategy, one that opened spaces for backfiring effects, but a good one nonetheless. 

Even so, George, Kipps and I made sure to keep our eyes open in case the ghost went after the girls.

 

From where I stood, I could see Lucy walking around the ground floor. I saw as she opened her rucksack and fished around it, probably looking for the skull so she could turn on the lever of its jar. I kept walking on my side of the stalls, Lucy’s quiet conversation with the skull staying far behind me as I paced around the rooms. 

 

A scream filled the air and cut through the silent auditorium. 

 

I turned around towards the sound of it, which came from backstage. Holly and Kipps weren’t anywhere near sight, so it could be any of them. I noticed Lucy had also turned and was running to the stage like me.

 

We jumped unto the stage and for the wings, where it was very dark. There were shadows everywhere around us and above us ropes dangled like snakes from the ceiling. Holly stood in the middle of the area while staring out into the ceiling, her sword drawn and vey pale of face.

 

“Its gone now” She said while turning to us “He’s gone”

 

“What happened?” I asked her. She bit her lip nervously.

 

“I heard someone laughing almost silently up there” Her hand moved upwards “When I looked up…I thought it was a weight to pull scenery, but…it was too long, too thin. I shone my torch towards it and I saw a man, dangling from the neck. He was all limp, just slowly circling in his place. I dropped my torch, and when I looked up he was gone”

 

“Sounds dreadful” I said while looking up, shining my torch towards where Holly’s hand had pointed, but, effectively, it was empty of anyone “It was obviously Le Gentilhomme Aimant. Did you see his face?”

 

“Thank goodness I did not” Holly exclaimed “His hair was just too long…”

 

“He’s testing us” George said as he reached us “We should be more careful”

 

We made sure Kipps was fine and then took our different ways, again walking around the concert hall and taking readings. I walked around the backstage in search for anything that could indicate the ghost was near, but it hadn’t been half an a hour when we all heard another scream call us to the second level.

 

We found Lucy gripping the wall with one hand as she regained her breath, her eyes tightly closed and the other hand firmly on her chest.

 

“The poor man…” She whispered-chanted when she looked at us and pointed somewhere far behind “There…in the tank! The poor man…drowned!”

 

“Lucy, there’s no tank there” I said with a hand on her shoulder as her breathing steadied “Its just an empty corridor”

 

“Now its an empty corridor” She corrected me “Just a moment ago, when I turned that corner, I saw it: a huge water tank, with a man inside”

 

“Looks like you just got _The Captive Pirate_ ” George said as we walked back to the stage “And _The Sultan’s Revenge_ when we arrived, and Holly got _The Hangman’s Daughter_. Its seems Le Gentilhomme is giving you private renditions of his greatest hits”

 

“I hope his repertoire is getting empty” Holly said.

 

“The thing is” George continued “He’s not even trying to target us, just you, because you are girls. But none of this has changed the state of play. We have to find the source and seal it, and find out how is it that he’s managed to come back”

 

“I don’t think it is a question of how” I said thoughtfully “But of why; what’s his motivation?”

 

“Le Gentilhomme is a malevolent spirit” Lucy said “Surely, that’ll do for now”

 

“Not necessarily the ghost…” I was lost in my thoughts before I decided to think about it more properly later “Well, I would suggest we changed the strategy a little, so that Lucy and Holly would stay with one of us at all times, but I’m guessing that-”

 

“Out of the question” Both girls said indignantly.

 

“Right, so we’ll keep the same strategy, any questions?”

 

But no one had any. We shared some chocolate and retook our rounds again.


	6. Caravan of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fortune Tellers exist.

#  **“Caravan of Fortune”**

#  **Lockwood x Lucy**

 

 

## Lockwood and Co. Series

**  
Summary:**  What happened with La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but reverse.  
  


**Sequel:** Private Renditions

**————Lockwood————  
**  
It was hours later that I found myself walking out of the auditorium and through the corridors outside of it, the ones leading to Tufnell’s Marvels and other entertainments inside the same building.

Le Gentilhomme hadn’t reappeared since Lucy saw him in the water tank as a drowned pirate. The calmness of the colossal establishment managed to get us all a little jumpy, especially Holly and Lucy, since they were the only ones he had to target.

 

I had made sure George, Kipps and I checked on both girls as constantly as they would let us without getting on their nerves. They kept reassuring us they were fine, but something was gnawing in the back of my head, making me a little guilty about bringing the here.

 

Pausing periodically to look at the many posters on the walls, I kept walking around. 

 

I suddenly found myself in the automatons room inside Tufnell’s Marvels. Not really thinking of where I was going as long as I kept doing readings I had wandered off farther than any of the others. Maybe I should go back, but honestly, all the weird machinery had gotten my attention, and knowing myself, they would keep getting my attention until I took a look at them.

Surely the others wouldn’t mind if I took a sneak peek at the apparatuses and rejoined them in a few minutes, would they?

 

I allowed myself a few minutes of curio wandering and looked at the old and new, gold and bronze, rusty and shiny engines. Some looked simple enough, but there were many others that were big and complex, with wiring here and there and levers sticking out of weird places and differently-colored buttons. Some looked like people, some looked like animals, some were basic geometric figures and some others didn’t look like anything I had ever seen in real life.

 

Somewhere in the back of my mind a light switched on and a memory of me and my sister Jessica came to me. It was from back when I was still just a little boy. She had taken me to a fair in the city that may or may have not been this very same one of Mr Tufnell, but I couldn’t really remember. All I remember was shrilly music, bright colors and having so much fun with Jessica. The memory enlightened a nostalgic happiness in me.

 

As I walked around the room a particular box at the closer end of the door caught my undivided attention. It was designed to look like some kind of caravan, painted in frilly red and yellow, with a sign on the top that read _‘One pound. Your fortune told’_.

…

I had one pound.

 

Against all of my better judgements, I fished inside my pockets and took out the money and placed it on the caravans slot.

 

At once the machine roared to life, lights turning up inside of it and the sounds of clanking coming from inside it. The caravan’s curtains were withdrawn and witch sitting inside it was revealed, a glass-ball between her wart-filled hands. A whirling light filled the ball as her hands moved around it, a mechanical crow on her should cawing. The fortune teller laughed wickedly and the light in the ball died out after something was placed on the little hatch under the caravan. The lights died in the machine and the curtains were drawn in again.

 

I silently introduced my fingers in the hatch and took two bits of paper from it. I wasn’t sure if it was a glitch or not, but whatever the answer, I was not complaining.

I turned on my torch and read the papers under its light.

 

_‘You fill her every thought’_

 

And: 

 

_‘She would go into the dark for you”_

 

She? Who was ‘she’? Who’s thoughts did I fill? Who would ever go into the ‘dark’ for me?

I crumpled the paper pieces and shoved them in my pocket, turning away from the machine and kept looking at the other ones. But my thoughts were not in the automatons anymore, but in the words I now kept in my pocket. What kind of predictions were this? How did the damn thing knew he was a guy as to only talk about ‘her’ and ‘she’? Most importantly, who is ‘she’?

 

I didn’t really knew much women aside from Holly and Lucy, but because we work together. 

Holly couldn’t be it. I mean, we care for each other enough, her safety is important to me, like mine is hers, but I didn’t occupy Holly’s every thought. 

And Lucy…well, she couldn’t be it either. If anything, she occupied my every thought. My every dream, my every wish, every desire was filled with her and only her. But there is just no way Lucy could ever think of me the way I think of her. She is different from every girl I have ever acquaintance; she was fiery, wrathful, head-strong. She has a mind of her own that  thinks and she doesn’t fear telling about it. She tells what she sees, what she feels, what she thinks and what she knows.

 

Unlike me, that I only conceal myself inside my little shell. Even though I had started to open up about my past and other aspects, I still had so many things to tell, but that terrified me. I couldn’t tell her _everything_ just yet! It would scare and drive her away-

 

Ghost-fog. There was slight ghost-fog around my ankles.

 

I looked around myself for any other sign, but the fog was disappearing, not increasing. There were minimum trails of miasma, but other than that, there was no sign of a ghost. Could it have already been here and I didn’t even noticed? What had it done? How didn’t I noticed-

 

“Lockwood?” I turned to find George looking at me from the other side of the room, frowning under his glasses, a salt bomb in his hand “Didn’t knew you were interested in this kind of spectacles”

 

“Not really” I answered “How are the others?”

 

“Jumpy” George deadpanned “And we might wanna be careful or our heads will be chopped off by the way Holly swings it every time she turns around”

 

“And Lucy?”

 

“Biting off the skull’s head, but otherwise the ghost has left them alone, but for what I see he was just here”

 

“So it seems…” I said “But I never saw him, or felt him get closer by that matter”

 

“…weird” George mused quietly “Were you even paying attention to the room?”

 

“No…not really” I realized I had been so deep in thought it was possible the ghost tried to sneak up on me “I guess I was feeling momentarily…vulnerable”

 

“What were you thinking about?” I looked at him and opened my mouth to reply, but somehow, the answer wouldn’t come out. I just couldn’t tell him.

 

“Nothing much” He stared at me silently, and I knew he was judging me.

 

“Well, we should all regroup” He finally said “Discuss what’s happened so far, maybe think of another strategy”

 

“…you reckon the whole building could be the source?”

 

“It could, but I’d rather it wasn’t. It’d be a real pain on our sides to have to tell Tufnell the whole place has to be brought down and rebuilt because of one ghost” He said as he signaled around the room “It would take years to rebuild a place this big. I think it as well be an object he had from when he died, something that could be hidden on their basements and storerooms, maybe even the dressing rooms”

 

“Well, I’ll go check on the others” I said as we walked out of the automaton’s room and took our separate ways, each of us with our minds on our own business.

 

The way the ghost had sneaked on me was unsettling to say the least. I was always so cautious, but I’d let my guard down. I allowed the ghost to appear when I wasn’t paying attention, which could only mean the ghost was following and probably entering my mind during my moments of weakness.

We had shared a connection. A strong and barely uninterrupted psychic connection. I passively opened my mind to him and he wasted no time in entering it. Which meant he read my thoughts. He now knew what I cared about.

 

He knows _who_ I care about.

 

My thoughts reeled inside me. I knew what he was going to do.


	7. Fury's Act Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mess with him.

#  **“Fury's Act Finale”**

#  **Lockwood x Lucy**

 

 

## Lockwood and Co. Series

**  
Summary:**  What happened with La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but reverse.  
  


**Sequel:** Caravan of Fortune

**————Lockwood————  
**  
Everything was still quiet as I ran up the stairs of the auditorium. Last time I spoke to Lucy she said she’d be patrolling the upper levels of the theatre. Which honestly, meant she could be anywhere! With all the staff passages and corridors it was impossible to predict where she would pop out of, but I needed to find her, and if I had to run through each hall to find her then so be it!

 

I started walking around the highest circle and ran into Kipps.

 

“Where’s Lucy?” He asked me. I stopped dead on my tracks.

 

“That’s what I was going to ask _you_ ”

 

“Did she tell you where she was going?”

 

“When?”

 

“When you were with her just now” I stared at him, my mouth opening slowly.

 

“Quill, I haven’t seen her in ages” I noticed how he paled under those enormous goggles, his mouth slackening.

 

“But…you were with her on one of the private balconies a moment ago. You were” He whispered accusatory “You beckoned her. She followed you towards the door”

 

“Wasn’t me, Quill”

 

We stared at each other and unsheathed our rapiers from our belts. We dashed on the direction I had come from and to the stairs.

 

“How long ago was this?”

 

“Only a few minutes, I was on the second level balcony when I saw you guys”

 

“Only it wasn't me with her” I replied as we bolted upstairs to the highest private balconies “What made you think it was me? Did you see my face?”

 

“No, not your face. There was something about his manner that was so like you” He mused for a moments as we doubled on a corner “Maybe it was his posture, or the way it seemed to loom over her, I don’t know! It was very shadowy”

 

I cursed.

 

“As I said, it resembled you somehow” 

 

“Well, at least now we can be sure he was once an actor!” We arrived to the booth’s corridor and looked around for any sign of Lucy “Which booth was it?”

 

“How do I know, they're not leveled from the outside"

 

“Dammit Kipps!” I ran to the nearest booth, running around the chairs. I took a moment to calm myself and push back the panic that was now starting to surface me. Kipps appeared at my side and we both peered over the edge of the wood railing.

 

“She could be anywhere!”

 

“No…” My mind brightened with realization “No Quill, we’ve been so blind! There is a pattern to his acting! He was leading Charity Budd towards the stage, Sandra Morrison was on the stage! He died on the stage, Quill, if he’s got Lucy, he’ll take her there!”

 

“He already has…” I followed Kipps’ gazed towards the stage and saw he was right; Lucy was just walking out of the wings. Her movements were smooth but too unhurried, lazy, and placid. Before her, a little distance away, a shadowy man moved across the wood boards, leading her.

 

“Lucy!” I hollered her name in my best attempts to snap her out of her daze as Kipps turned around and ran out of the balcony. I knew he was going for the stairs to try and get there, but I also knew he wouldn’t make it on time. Lucy didn’t hear me, however, she still wandered after the man.

 

I looked around for another way, some other way to reach the bottom of the amphitheater and to the stage, but I was conveniently standing in the one booth that stood the farthest from the podium. 

Lucy just kept walking serenely towards him, her hands limply at her sides. Her rapier still hung from her belt, but there was no sign of her trying to reach it. 

My head turned upwards and noticed there were several trapeze metal bars hanging from ropes. The closest bar to me had its rope tied on the middle of the ceiling along with many others, the knot somehow concealed between the golden carvings. Oh goodness, if George was here to watch me, he would _so_ kill me.

 

I crawled into the rail and reached upwards to the bar, untying it from its hook. I avoided looking down, knowing if I did, I would cower. Mr Tufnell had mentioned trapeze artists starting the show jumping from all sides of the room and landing on the stage, so, the leap was possible.

 

I placed a hand on the wall to steady myself and looked back at the podium. Lucy was already standing in the middle, her short hair and jacket moving softly behind her. I saw the man clear in itself, revealing a handsome face, with which he smile at her, and extended his hand slowly outwards. Lucy too extended her hand and took a step forward.

 

And _that_ did it. I was angry. Because, you know what, how _dares_ he? How dares he appear in the middle of the night to try and steal the girl I had been working years with to make her fall in love with me? Who gave him the right to try and take Lucy away from me? 

 

I gripped the bar with my left hand, leaned backwards and jumped.

It was like plunging into darkness. An eternal fall I would never escape. A scene from my childhood’s nightmare. The booths rushed past me and I passed the levels with monstrous speed, which accentuated as the movement became upwards. My sword tightly gripped in my right hand, the other burning in the desperate grip with the bar.

 

The ghost man was standing in the ever-nearer stage, Lucy slowly making her way towards his outstretched arms. I swung right through them, my rapier cutting at Le Gentilhomme’s neck, making his head disappear, all in one second and then I was past them. My hand released the bar and I landed on the crash mat, which was by no means comfy or anything, just a bunch of ropes knotted together. Not good for the back, let me tell you.

 

Not a second later I stood from where I landed, raging and fuming like a lion who’s pride had been breached. There Lucy stood, her arms at her sides, her face dreamy and her eyes far away from any reality. At least she wasn’t walking forward anymore, but if she’d noticed the way I literally almost hit her with my feet as I lurched between her and the damn ghost, she didn’t show it. The rope I had used was now going back to where it started our journey.

 

Le Gentilhomme Aimant Sans Pitié was now reforming his head, the ectoplasm burning at the wood floor. He was still looking at my Lucy, a reformed and charming smile still on her way.

 

“Smile at this” I threw a canister of iron, which shattered against the floor. The fillings raced beneath the ghost, igniting and surrounding Le Gentilhomme in a green circle of hungry flames. The ghost then finally lost his cool and jumped agitatedly, recoiling from the iron fire as best as it could. But I had more canisters in my belt and a rage and hunger for ghost-annihilation that wouldn’t be satisfied with just one canister, so I threw another and another, setting the plasm alight and flying everywhere. I heard a door banging somewhere far behind me at the other side of the auditorium. The apparition shivered and lost focus, but tried to wave a smile at Lucy once more.

 

“Oh, get lost already!” He had finally done it. I snapped- I was not going to put up with this anymore, so I let it all out in roaring howls of hateful passion “She is mine! Mine! You hear me? Mine! Only I can smile charmingly at her! Only I can stun her! And anyone who _dares_ try to lure her away from me will have me at full _wrath_!” Detaching the magnesium flare from my belt, I threw it at his feet, completely ignoring what other repercussions it could have. But I didn’t care, Mr Tufnell could always get a new stage, its just freaking wood!

 

The explosion worsened the flames that already surrounded the ghost and I felt my fury be satiated. Half the plasm was vaporized with the blast, the remainder of the ghost faint, only an outline of itself. It fled from the fire across the stage, the apparition shaking with a half reformed head being dragged after him.

 

“Where is it?” Quill and George raced across the burning stage, avoiding the blaze as best as they could “Where’d it go?”

 

“The yellow box!” I commanded “The source is in the box, find it! Seal it! Get it out of here!” With that, I turned away them. I stood in front of Lucy, looking down at her. She was pale and cold. Her eyes were lost in a horizon I couldn’t fathom “Lucy!” I shook her firmly, my hands on her shoulders, but she still wouldn’t budge.

 

I heard a series of crashes behind me, but I didn’t look back. I knew it was only George and Kipps struggling with the source, but right now Lucy needed my full attention.

 

“Lucy…”

 

“Lockwood!” George yelled behind me “We’ve got it!”

 

“Lucy, please…” I pleaded softly “It’s me, Lockwood…”

 

A pop on my head told me George and Kipps had laid a silver net on the source, the psychic charge in the room vanishing like ectoplasm to a flare. But Lucy remained the same; passive.

Panic arose on me as she didn’t react, and so, like plunging into the darkness of the fall in the hall with the trapeze bar, I plunged myself into my biggest feat of courage and recklessness yet; I kissed Lucy.

 

I guess we could say it was passionate, for the sake of the moment, but I didn’t really knew, since it was my first kiss. What I knew was that if this didn’t brought her back, I didn’t knew what would.

So yes, it was passionate on my side; I cupped Lucy’s cheek with one hand and hugged her with the other, crashed her against me in an attempt to warm her frozen body, and tipped us a little to the back so that I was leaning against her comfortably without hurting her back.

 

“Lockwood…” She smiled at me, recognition blooming inside her “Hi…”

 

I kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly.


	8. Mon Belle Dame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always

#  **“Mon Belle Dame”**

#  **Lockwood x Lucy**

 

 

## Lockwood and Co. Series

**  
Summary:**  What happened with La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but reverse.  
  


**Sequel:** Fury's Act Finale

**————Lockwood————  
** Outside the theatre, everything was still dark with night’s embrace. The fair was closed, everything dead-like. However, no member of the staff slept that night; they were all kept awake by the desolate bellowing that came from Charity’s caravan.

But once George and Kipps sealed the source in a silver net, everything went quiet outside: Charity stopped hollering, apologized for causing such a ruckus and asked to please be brought something to eat, and everyone knew we had captured the ghost.

 

Tufnell and more of the staff’s members entered the auditorium as we were putting off the fire I lighted in the stage on my little tete-a-ghost. Surprisingly, Mr Tufnell wasn’t all that bothered by the burnt stage, the rest of the staff was, or about me using the trapeze artist’s material in my hurry to the podium. In fact he was jollier than we’d ever seen him, even after Lucy explained how she had discovered how the source was brought into the theatre in the first place.

 

Turns out it had been Samuel Parkins, the stage manager, all along. He had been the one with the idea of the cubbyholes for more than business reasons, he even confessed it after Lucy accused him. However was it that Lucy found out, we didn’t knew, but that was a question for later.

Samuel was taken away to his caravan by the two strongest-looking trapeze artists, who then stayed there to guard him. 

 

“I cannot believe it!” Mr Tufnell exclaimed once Samuel was taken away “Such an unthinkable act! Such a treason! Such a betrayal! I’ve always treated him like my own son!”

 

“It has nothing to do with you, Mr Tufnell” Lucy assured him after she came back. She had gone with Samuel to interrogate him, which didn’t took much time since he had been willing to confess “You said it; he had become too attached to Sandra, and he told me so himself. He had originally planned to set it free to get back at her for rejecting his advances, since she had been intent on flirting with Chase Blears. Samuel felt heartbroken, and wanted revenge. So, when he was cleaning the storerooms, he came across the relic of Le Gentilhomme- the turban he wore during _The Sultan’s Revenge_. After he died, it was kept on an iron box, which prevented the ghost from escaping. But Samuel took it without really knowing the ghost’s psychical power, and turned out to be much stronger than he thought it was, but he gave that little thought when he discovered the ghost’s particular interest in women. So he hid the turban inside the box and waited for progress. During weeks it was only witnessed by other guys; no one who could become a victim, but then, Charity was snared by him, but she wasn’t who Samuel wanted dead- that’s why he saved her. And just a day later, Sandra Morrison ran a different luck.”

 

“But why didn’t he removed the turban after Sandra’s death?” Kipps asked “Why risk anyone’s else life?”

 

“He said he simply didn’t found the time to take it away” Lucy shrugged “I personally think he was deceived by the feeling of power it gave him to know he had set this dangerous ghost free”

 

Inspector Barnes arrived soon after with more DEPRAC agents and Lucy had to retell the story for him. Many of the theatre’s staff crowded around them so to listen to the story again. Not that Lucy told it like Mr Tufnell probably would have- dramatic pauses, different timing, volume changes.

I discussed the prize of our work with Tufnell, which, I’ve been sure it would be reduced due to the damaged stage, but Mr Tufnell actually insisted on not counting that in the paycheck, since we saved his company from ruin. We also got Charity’s personal thanks for saving her from the ghost’s enchantment.

 

“That was a nice speech there” George prized me once we got a moment alone.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, I’d reenact it, but I don’t have a ghost here to which to yell all those things you said” Oh, _that_ thing “…I imagine you meant all you said, didn’t you?”

 

“Of course”

 

————

 

We stood by the fair’s doors, waiting for the night cabs to pick us up. We’d all been given some tea by a very nice bearded lady who very much seemed to have grown to really like Kipps.

I saw Lucy perched against the metal rail, looking out into the night while Holly talked with George and Kipps, so I decided to perch myself beside her.

 

“I know what you’re going to say” She said “Had I stayed home, this wouldn’t have happened”

 

“Yes, I called it” I said and took a sip of my tea“…but I was going to ask how’d you’d been doing”

 

“I’m fine” We stood in silence “By the way, thank you”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I was told what you did” I shuddered at the memory “I can’t believe you swung down a bloody trapeze just to save me from him”

 

“Well, I did told you before” I replied “I’d die for you, Luce. But I was right; you and Holly should have stayed behind on this one job”

 

“He also tried to approach you, from what I heard” She countered.

 

“Yes, but he barely came to me. He just stood to the side while I thought about other things” Lucy looked at me with a certain sadness that told me she already knew what I’d been thinking about back then “He took advantage of my vulnerability, fed off it, but he didn’t tried to snare me too”

 

“Well, I’ll make sure to listen to you more next time, boss” We laughed together and then fell into a comfortable and companionable silence “Also, Lockwood…” Her eyes casted down on the asphalt, a small blush coming to her cheeks and ears “…are you really the only one who can smile charmingly at me?” My eyes widened and my mouth opened and closed like some sort of fish. At once, my face became the theatre’s stage from an hour ago; aflame, burning and hot.

 

“How di- George told you, didn’t he?” Oh how I was going to kill him!

 

“No, the skull did” Right. The skull. I forgot he had been somewhere inside the theatre during the whole affair, and of course, it would had been just close enough to have a good look and listen to what I did and said, only to gossip it to Lucy. She smiled, burying her face on her coat so that I wouldn’t notice her blush, but it was a little too late for that. 

 

_‘“She is mine! Mine! You hear me? Mine! Only I can smile charmingly at her! Only I can stun her! And anyone who dares try to lure her away from me will have me at full wrath!”’_

 

My words ran inside my head. I hadn’t been thinking very rationally when I was upstage, battling the curse spirit of Le Gentilhomme. It had been like I had become pure instinct, pure feeling, pure action. There was no thought process, no wondering, no hesitation, just reactions. Like an animal who showed just how it feel, when it felt like it, how it felt and because it felt like it.

 

“Well…” I was at loss to what to say. Because, what was there to say? Even thought I had said that because I was being protective, I had basically imposed myself on her there, saying she was mine, like she was some sort of trophy to be won and displayed, and that was not what I felt for Lucy. 

I didn’t wanted to tell Lucy to love me; I didn’t wanted to be possessive. I wanted her to choose me like I chose her, freely and for love.

 

“Because I’d rather no one else smile at me like that other than you” I looked at her in search for any kind of sign that told me she was lying. And I found signs, just not the ones I was looking for.

 

I found signs of honesty in her smile. 

I found signs of timidity in her posture. 

I found signs of compassion in her voice.

I found signs of devotion in her acts. 

I found signs of caring in her blush. 

I found signs of adoration in the way her eyebrows arched. 

But most of all, I found signs of _love_ in the profundity of her eyes.

 

“Well, I’d rather never smile to anyone else the way I smile at you” I took my hand our of my coat’s pocket and reached to hers, her tiny hand fitting completely inside my palm “I wouldn’t fly across a room in a trapeze bar for anyone else” A single tear rolled down Lucy’s cheek. I reached my other hand to her face, cupped her cheek with it and brushed the tear away with my thumb.

 

“I love you like _Le Gentilhomme Aimant Sans Pitié_ loved his audience’s applause” Lucy said longingly.

 

“Let me be your _Gentilhomme Aimant_ ” I whispered caressing her face “Would you like be _mon Belle Dame_?”

 

She smiled widely “Always”


End file.
